


Aevum

by Schreiberlein



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Alternative Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Fluff, M/M, Modern AU, i'll try for a happy ending i swear, in which collins is completely oblivious to farriers flirting, in which tommy learns the hard way not to fall in love with a ghost, smut?, the author is drunk-writing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-02-04 01:46:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12760611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schreiberlein/pseuds/Schreiberlein
Summary: Tommy is seven when a psychic tells him that he is being followed by a ghost. He is seventeen when this ghost stands in his room, totally drenched and dripping saltwater onto his floor.Some mornings he wakes up crying without knowing why. Whatever the dream was he had, he can never remember it. But the only thing that does last when he wakes up is a sense of loss.





	1. Phantasma

**Author's Note:**

> hello there I don't know what to say except that I really have better things to do than to obsess over this fucking crack of a ship. but the gigantic amount of chemistry between Gibson and Tommy has fascinated me a lot - and left me devastated when that french bastard dared to die. this is a try to tape up the emotional trauma this bloody film caused me gdi
> 
> there is not a lot in this chapter yet. but i will try to update at least once a week. enjoy
> 
> p.s. i haven't written in months  
> p.p.s. english is not my first language  
> p.p.p.s. i still hope you guys like it and decide to drop a comment or something. constructive criticism is greatly appreciated

Tommy has a ghost. Since he was young, he was followed by paranormal instances. His mother once consulted a psychic who said that there is a light above her sons head, an open gate, a spirit. The woman also said that it wasn't a normal ghost haunting Tommy. It protects him, for whatever reason.

He was 7 years old then and didn't believe it at first.  
He thought that never falling down, always catching his balance in the last moment, never scraping his knees or never getting bitten by neither insects nor animals was normal.

 

Then came the day of the field trip. Little Tommy went on an excursion with his whole class. Back then, in his fourth year of primary school, he was a shy boy. He had his friends he played with, but unlike the other children, he was also great with being left unattended. Because although he was alone, he never felt lonely. He knew instinctively that he was never really alone.

They drove to the beach at a little coastal town in the south and were to spend about a week there. It was only a 3-hours drive away from London, but Tommy felt like he stood at the end of the world as he silently watched the waves crashing onto the sand.

His teachers always warned them not to swim too far away. But Tommy, reliable, good little Tommy has always been a great swimmer and an even better listener. The other children and the adults were too preoccupied to care for him as he wandered along the beach, searching for pretty seashells.

In hindsight, he didn't mean to swim out so far. He really didn't. But there were beautiful little fishes in the water. Shimmering and reflecting the sunlight. He followed them, mesmerized. It was too late when a strong wave pulled him under.  
He screamed for help as he resurfaced. He swallowed salty, bitter water and fear spread in his chest.

In panic, he lost his composure, helplessly treading in the water. As he submerged again after getting hit by another wave, he was sure he would die.  
_Oh god_ , he thought. Mama will be angry with me. Things already began to darken around him.

 

That is until a strong hand grabbed his waist and he was pulled towards a full-clad body.  
The uniform he wore was completely soaked, just like the man himself. Tommys eyes stung from the salt water, but he saw a face, with big eyes and high cheekbones. Swimming in drenched clothes, with a boy under his arm and against the tides has to be exhausting, but the man doesn't seem to be out of breath just yet.  
Drifting in and out of consciousness, he only remembers how the man didn't seem to really swim _against_ the waves. It was more like he swam through them, with them.

After a while, there was sand beneath his feet again. Solid, cold sand. There was a hand on his back and a hand around his arm, holding him steady. But as he looked around, there was no one to be seen. 

His teachers had found him like that. Shivering and cold to the bone. 

He was 9 years old when it happened and he thought that having a ghost to protect him was actually pretty rad.

 

That night, as they made a bonfire by the beach, he stared into the dark water, wishing to conjure up the face of his savior. But he couldn't. He remembered the black hair, the angled jaw and the gentleness of his hands. But for gods sake, he can't remember the ghosts eyes. What made him even sadder is that he didn't know how to thank him.

 

 

When Tommy is 12 years old, his parents get divorced. It is ruled that his little sister stays with his father and he with his mother.  
He cries a lot that night and as they move out of their house, into a little apartment in the outskirts of London, he thinks that he might have seen a man next to him as he walked past a little window. A flash of dark hair and uniform. He took a step back and examined himself, mirrored and a bit shaky. There was no one behind him.

 

He is 13 when he is at his first sleepover at a friends home. Alex is loud and funny, loved by classmates and the teachers. Tommy doesn't know why the other boy has taken such a weird liking to him, because Alex could be friends with anyone he wanted, but chose Tommy instead.

Tommy thought a sleepover consists of watching movies, eating pizza and going to sleep, and as Alex' mom wishes them goodnight after switching off the lights, he cuddles deeper into his blanket and closes his eyes, only to be woken by Alex minutes after.

"You ever talked to a ghost, Tommy?" The other boy had a mischievous grin on his face.

"No." Tommy answered honestly. 

"Do you want to? Talk to one I mean?" Alex asked.

Immediately, he thinks about him. He does want to talk to his ghost. But he is hesitant. He doesn't want others to know about his secret.

"C'mon" Alex said. "Don't be a coward."

He met the other boys gaze head on, looked into his eyes and nodded quietly.

 

Tommy doesn't see where Alex gets the board from, he searches for pillows they can sit on and something to light a candle with. It's a make-do board of carton on which the alphabet, some numbers, an eye and the options yes / no are scribbled on with marker. The eye looks a bit wobbly and Tommy gulps. He isn't a coward. The room is illuminated by soft candlelight and Alex takes a glass from the table and puts it onto the board upside down.

The room is dark except for their little circle of weak, flickering light. Alex eyes glimmer mischievously when he asks: "Ready?"

Tommy nods. "Tell me what to do."  
His heart is pumping fast and his scalp prickles weirdly. Something tells him that he isn't supposed to do that. That he is meddling with something bigger than him. There is no going back now.

Alex instructs him to put his fingers onto the bottom of the glass and as both of them are in position, he opens his mouth to say something.

In that moment, two things happened simultaneously. A cold hand clasps Tommys shoulder tightly, making him flinch violently, his fingers leave the bottom of the glass. He could hear the faint rustling of clothes next to him. Something like a thud of a heavy boot on the floor makes Alex awaken from his stupor. His eyes dart to the place where the sound comes from; next to the glass. Something tips the cup between them over. The weight of the invisible hand vanishes.

Alex jumps up so fast that Tommy doesn't realize what happened only after the other boy has sprinted to the light switch and the room is once more brightened.

They stare at each other with wide eyes.

Although the two of them became good friends for the years to come, they never speak of this incident again.


	2. Insomnium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Our lives are not our own. We are bound to others, past and present, and by each crime and every kindness, we birth our future.”  
> ― David Mitchell, Cloud Atlas
> 
>  
> 
> There is a party, Alex trying to be a good friend, Tommy getting his first kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy. Thank you very much for the positive feedback! The kudos, the bookmarks and especially the comments :)
> 
> The next chapter will hopefully be a bit longer. Still getting used to writing again.
> 
> Not beta'd. Feel free to point out every small mistake to me.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are really appreciated.
> 
> My tumblr: grxywaren.tumblr.com

You never realize you are in a dream. Only after you wake up you realize that something was wrong.

Dreams aren't always what they seem to be. Most of them carry hidden messages or are the result of the subconscious to satisfy needs you didn't know you had. And again, although it's rare, some of them are memories.

 

He is struggling for breath, his lungs and eyes are burning. His heartbeat thunders on hectically in his ears, knowing that its time is running out. He's screaming without a sound and he needs air, air _air_.

Tommy extends his hand towards the ladder, towards the dim light shining through the small hatch. The chains around his ankle feel like the devils hands pulling him back, pulling him down.

He sees himself drowning. Like an outsider, standing beside his dying body. But something isn't right. His face looks different, his hair too inky to be his own.

Tommy wakes up. His room is quiet except for his sharp intakes of breath. A quick glance at his phone confirms that it is indeed the _Friday, 1st of June, 6:16AM_. He falls back onto his pillows and wills his hands to stop shaking.

 

He has read quite a lot about recurring dreams and from what he has gathered over the years, he knows that it's a natural phenomenon experienced by many people. Some say it's a sign of an imbalanced, unhealthy mind, that it stems from anxiety, PTSD or OCD. Some say it's the brains way of coping with stress. It is probably true for other people suffering from never-leaving nightmares, but Tommy thinks it has something to do with the date.

Because although there are many talking about their dreams, none of them seems to have a dreams that returns every year and only on a certain day. He became aware of this pattern after it happened three years in a row.

So Tommy asks himself: What happened on the first of June? 

The internet has plenty of answers. 1533, Anne Boleyn is crowned the queen of England. 1815, Napoleon Bonaparte swears fidelity to the Constitution of France. 1922, Over 50,000 Fascists gather for a meeting in Bologna where Mussolini warns that he will lead a full-scale revolt against a government favoring 'anti-Fascist reaction', and so on.

He's about 90% sure that it has something to do with his ghost and sighs. It's not like he can google: _I'm being followed by a restless spirit. Side effects: Recurring nightmares. Solution needed smh_

Does he need to call an exorcist? A psychic? A doctor?

Probably all of them.

"You know, sometimes I wish you would just talk to me about who you are, why you're here. I'm sure you can do _something_. How did you save me from drowning back then?", he says out loud and immediately feels stupid for doing so.  
He rolls onto his stomach and tries to cram in another hour of sleep before he has to get up.

When he wakes up, he knows he has dreamt of the same scenario again, although it wasn't that intense this time, there is a lingering feeling of guilt which he can't explain.

Tommy rubs his face with his hands and gets up.

 

Alex has his head stemmed on his right hand, dozing off. His mouth is open and Tommy is worried that once he falls asleep completely, he won't be able to keep his balance and crack his head open on their table.

Mr Collins is still talking, something about old greek philosophers and Tommy watches the ticking clock, willing it to go faster.

"Platon once believed that humans have been two-headed creatures in the beginning. That we all have been created with four arms and four legs, a fusion of two people." Mr Collins says and glances towards Alex. Tommy nudges him slightly but to no avail.

"But Zeus was jealous of how close humans were to each other, so he allegedly used his lightning to split them. Since then, there is the theory of _Soulmates_. It says that humans are doomed to search their entire life for their other half after they have been separated."

Tommy already stopped listening at this point and instead started doodling into his notebook. He writes down his dream with as much detail as he could remember. The coldness of water streaming into his lungs, the desperation with which his heart beat. He closes his eyes and suppresses a shudder. The vividness of his dream worries him and he knows he has to find out what this is about sooner or later. He feels weirdly miserable.

Just as lesson ends, their teacher hands them sheets of papers for their parents to sign. Something about their 10-days excursion to Dover. He sighs and stuffs it in his backpack. Alex has woken up by now and groans.  
"Out of all the places we could go to, _Dover_?" he asks.

"If you hadn't skipped class on the day we voted for either Manchester or Dover, we could have went to the former." Alex rolls his eyes. They pack up and make their way to the canteen.  
On the way, Alex tells him about the party some boy from their class threw on the weekend. About people puking onto the floor, about how they all passed out on the couches in the end and got kicked out the next morning. Everything is fine as Tommy listens to him babbling on and nodding occasionally. Everything is fine until Alex asks him to join them the next time.  
"I really thought he wouldn't do that anymore after some idiot apparently killed his house plant by trying to water it with vodka, but he just texted me and asked me to come. You could just tag along," he offers kindly.

They get in line for the food. The menu today is greek Gyros with rice and tomato sauce. Alex is being greeted by people Tommy doesn't know.

"Alex-" Tommy starts but the other boy just throws an arm around his shoulder. Together, they awkwardly make their way forward.

"Come on, Tommy. It will be fun. You should really go out more often, find yourself some new friends," he knows that Alex means it well, but he also knows that his social battery is not full enough to go through a whole evening of socializing with strangers. _Drunk_ strangers.

"I really don't know, Alex. Helen actually asked me to help her with her homework. Seems important. I don't want to leave her hanging and-"

They sit down by a random table. Alex smiles at someone behind Tommy but diverts his attention back to him immediately.

Alex shoots him a suspiscious look. "Okay," he says and sighs. "I'll not force you to anything." Tommy feels a bit guilty for turning down his invitation so quickly. The other boy still watches him with a mix of concern and _I-really-don't-get-you-sometimes_. Suddenly, something changes in his facial expression. "But you should know that I plan on getting absolutely shit-faced tonight and have no one to get me home safely. You know how I am when I'm drunk."

"Are you seriously trying to guilt-trip me into babysitting you at a party that you know I really don't want to go to?" Tommy deadpans.

"Yes."

"I hate you."

"Will you come with me or not?"

Tommy is quiet until the mental image of Alex passed out in a bathtub, or worse, on the street sneaks into his head.

"Fine," he sighs and just as Alex wants to break out into cheers or something to that matter, he says, "But as soon as the party gets too much for me, I'm going, _and_ I'm dragging your ass with me."

The other boy pouts for a moment but nods after a second of contemplation.

"The party starts around 9PM. We'll meet in front of my house, okay?"

Before Tommy can regret his decision they are joined by some friends of theirs who immediately start to engage Alex into a conversation. He just sighs and quietly finishes his meal.

 

At 8PM the feeling of really not wanting to go to that party becomes overwhelming. Just as he picks up his phone to text Alex that he is sick with something as equally horrenduous as the plague -because Alex wouldn't accept anything else as an excuse- someone rings the bell. A bad feeling confirms itself as Helen sticks her head into his room. "Your boyfriend is here. Might want to let him in," she says and grins. Tommy pulls a face at her and goes to Alex. After years of teasing he has long since given up trying to convince her not to call him that because it's _not true, Helen, god dammit_

"I am here to help you pick out an outfit that will not scare the ladies away. And before you ask why, it's because I'm a good friend and plan on staying by your side the whole evening and can't have you ruin my image by wearing something ugly," he says with a shit-eating grin.

"As if," Tommy says. "You just want to make sure that I don't flee the scene as soon as it gets too much for me." Alex finger-guns at him.

"I hate you," Tommy repeats and starts to pick out some shirts and a nice pair of trousers.

 

They finally make it to the party at half past nine and Tommy wishes to be anywhere but here. He tries not to show it too much as Alex seems genuinely happy for his presence.

He takes a deep breath.  
"Jesus Christ," he mumbles and lets Alex drag him into the house.

It's awkward at first, given that he doesn't know most of the people. Alex quickly starts going around to greet people.  
The evening starts to blur as he gets handed some drinks. He really just follows Alex around. Someone takes his phone to call themselves so they'll have his number. More drinks. A shot. He quietly thanks god as he gets his hands on a piece of pizza.  
Someone put on music he doesn't know. The bass makes his whole chest feel like it's shaking. A girl he vaguely recognizes makes their way to them. She is talking to Alex and throwing glances his way. Marlene, his brain supplies through a foggy haze. She is wearing high heels, making her taller than he remembers. She is talking to him now but the words drown in the beat of the song.

"Excuse me?" he asks. She laughs and repeats her question. 

"Should we go upstairs?"

He could really use a break now. Alex is busy talking to a group of boys from their history class. He hopes it will be okay to leave him alone for a few minutes. He nods at Marlene, who smiles and takes his hand.

They go upstairs and Tommy immediately knows something is wrong. There are more people here than he expected. Some of them are just sitting on the stairs, talking. Some again are in the corners, against the walls, kissing. Smoke clouds the air around him. Is that weed? He excuses himself to the restroom and splashes cold water in his face. His mind starts to clear up a bit and he looks at his phone. It's nearly midnight. He didn't feel the time passing. He drinks water from the faucet.

As he goes out again Marlene leads him to one of the rooms. She is saying something, but he doesn't understand. Tommy feels like he's sleepwalking until suddenly he is sitting on the bed and Marlene is on his lap, her face close to his. He can taste beer and vodka on her tongue and he jerks away.

Abruptly, everything clears up a bit. "No," he says.

She doesn't stop. Instead, she goes on to unbotton his shirt, wrapping her legs around him.

"No. Wait," he repeats and tries to pull her hands away.

She looks at him angrily. "Do you want it or not? Make up your mind, won't you?"

"I don't," they stare at each other for a moment.

"Dickhead," she says and lifts herself up.

The slam of the door carried a weird feeling of finality. He buries his head in his hands. Why is this shit always happening to him? 

"Damn it" he mumbles.

 

Tommy sucks in the fresh air and feels a bit better. Alex lets out a deep breath next to him.  
They walk in silence but Tommy can feel Alex stealing glances into his direction.

They ride the tub towards home and Tommy doesn't say anything when Alex misses the station he has to get off at.  
The sudden brightness of the trainstation makes him feel nauseous and he faintly registers someone yelling until he realizes that they are yelling at _them_.  
He turns around to see some boys his age walking towards them and hears Alex cursing under his breath.

He looks at him questioningly. Alex shakes his head.  
"Ignore them, Tom."

"Who are they?"

Alex grits his teeth and walks faster.

"Hey, Faggot!" Tommy raises his eyebrows.

"What's their problem?" He doesn't want to get into a fight, not after this disastruous party but Alex turns around, seething, and yells, "Bring it on, fucker!"

An awkward moment of silence follows. Tommy grabs Alex' wrist and breaks out into a run. He doesn't look back as he sprints for his life. There were five of them, no way in hell he and Alex would have stood a chance.

"What the hell, dude," Alex writhes his arm out of Tommys hold after they have come to a halt. It doesn't seem like they are being followed and Tommy lets out a breath of relief.

"I should ask you the same," he shoots back. "Who were these people?"

"Nah. Just forget them." Alex says and turns to go the last few meters left to Tommys house.

Tommy eyes him for some seconds and follows. "They were super ready to give us a beating. What happened between you and them?"

He doesn't get a reply and as he opens the door to the house in which Tommy lives with his family in an apartment on the third floor, Alex tugs at his sleeve. When he turns around, there is a weird look on Alex' face. The other is avoiding eye contact and instead gestures towards the cold floor. 

Tommy sighs as he pulls the other into a hug. It is rare for him to initiate so much body contact but something tells him that Alex really needs it at the moment.

The other boy doesn't try to fight it and instead pulls him even closer.

"Some people, Tom. Some people are just... so..." Alex is usually really good at expressing his feelings and hearing him at a loss for words worries Tommy. 

"Why did you turn down Marlene today?" It was so quiet that Tommy wouldn't have caught it if they weren't standing so close to each other.

He shrugs. "I didn't want her."

"Why?"

"I don't know her. She's not my type."

"What is your type, then?"

"Why are you asking all of this?"

"Am I your type, Tommy?"

Alex' voice sounds rougher than usual. Tommys nearly chokes on the question forming on his tongue when he feels Alex' lips against the underside of his jaw.

He doesn't move as Alex plants soft kisses against his neck, his throat. He is in too much shock to realize what is going on until Alex' face comes into his vision again, closer and closer. He thinks of Marlenes lips on his, the insipid taste of beer still on his tongue. He reacts without thinking and pushes the other boy away.

Tommy regrets it the moment he sees Alex expression. A sharp pang of guilt, worse than he has ever felt twists in his chest. He takes a step towards his friend who takes a step back.

"I'm sorry," they say, both at the same time. Tommy sounds desperate. Alex sounds defeated. Alex retreats more and more. Finally, he makes a weird grimace which probably was supposed to be a smile, but it comes out so distorted and different from his usual happy grin that Tommy hates himself for hurting Alex, for not realizing earlier, for being stupid.

_No, no, no_

He is in a stupor when he watches Alex walk away. Watches how his silhouette blends in with the dark as he gets farther and farther away. Towards the building on the other end of the street where he lives with his brothers.

Tommy lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding when Alex vanishes completely and he hears the faint shutting sound of a heavy door.

He walks up the stairs, opens the door, undresses and gets under the shower as if he's in trance. Only as he wipes away the fog on the mirror and looks his reflection in the tired eyes, he feels the tears welling up. 

They never leave his eyes but it's close this time. His breath is shaky and he closes his eyes.

_I need someone to tell me what to do. What am I supposed to do? I need help. Oh god. What have I done- how could I be so fucking blind_

 

He wants to punch himself in the face for being such an idiot.

"Ugh," he says.

"Ugh," he repeats, louder this time.

He takes out his contact lenses and throws them away. Everything blurs immediately. May is over, he has to change to new ones tomorrow.  
He steps out of the bathroom and makes his way to his room nearly blind.  
Without turning on the lights, he pulls out a clean pair of pants and turns around to his bed. He takes his glasses from the night stand and puts them on to set a new alarm on his phone when he hears it.

Water dripping onto the floor.

Tommy thinks he should be awarded for not screaming or something in the few coming moments. Because as he turns around, something- or better, some _one_ is standing in his room. His silhouette barely visible against the white wall.

Tommys body is on autopilot as he crosses the room running and switches on the light.

A man. A _dripping wet_ man is standing in his room. In the middle of the night. In his room on the third floor. A stranger. A man he has never-

Tommy sucks in a breath as he realizes that he has seen the uniform before.

He opens his mouth to yell or cry or threaten to call the police when the man speaks.

" _Tommy_ "

A familiar voice he has never heard in his life.

His chest aches with sadness and sorrow. 

The tears well up again and this time, they fall when he realizes that he knows this man.

He knows this man very, very well.

This man standing in front of him is his ghost. The one who saved his nine-year-old self from drowning.


	3. Pergere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions over questions. Tommy prefers coffee over tea. Is that anxiety? Crying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm late. I know. I'm sorry.
> 
> Is there someone who took the TOEFL test once and willing to talk about the experience? I'm so done. Next chapter will hopefully be up next saturday.
> 
> Not beta'd, As always.
> 
> Thanks to all the kudos, bookmarks and hits! leave a comment if u feel like it. Thanks for reading

When Tommy was 15 years old, the dream of drowning on the first of June became so vivid that he woke up crying and coughing. He told his mother the next morning.  
His mother is a woman who goes to work at 8:30AM and comes home at 6:30PM. She works for a travel agency and is responsible for booking the hotels and events. Although she has divorced twice and is raising a teenage boy all on her own, she has never lost her sense of optimism, something for which Tommy is incredibly thankful. He doesn't know where he would stand without his mother.

She wasn't angry when he woke her up earlier than she actually had to and she listened closely to him at breakfast, explaining the feeling of drowning, helplessness and fear. What disturbed him the most was the sensation of water filling his lungs, water stinging in his eyes, water engulfing him, locking him up.

When he was done and feeling somewhat embarrassed for his outpour of emotion, she opens her arms and hugs him tightly.  
"That sounds serious," she said. "Do you have an idea where it could be coming from?"

He shook his head. "Maybe it's him," he said after a pause. "Maybe this is... maybe this is how he died, Mom." He knew he was right by the feeling of his heart. He doesn't know how he was so sure of something so unknowable.  
She let him go and looked him deeply into his eyes. "The dream is not to return for another year right? We will have found a solution by then, see a doctor maybe." By the way of her talking, he knew that she also felt as helpless as he did in the dream. It was rare and painful to see his mother worrying over him like this.

"I don't believe that your... ghost has meant to hurt you."  
"What makes you so sure? What makes you so sure it's him?" Tommy asked.  
"There have been instances in your childhood... you were too young to remember but," his mother paused and took a deep breath. "When you were still a small child, you once walked onto a street as I left you out of my sight for a while to help someone who asked for the way. I was so untrained and unfit to be a mother back then, not prepared for children in general. I heard a car honking loudly and you were so small, it was so dark and I saw- I saw how you stood right in front of it, how you only stared at it." Tommy gulped as she closed her eyes in horror at the memory. "It was against all the laws of physics that you weren't hit. You wouldn't have been able to get out of the way fast enough but when the car drove past, you just stood there. You were really confused and immediately started crying, but you survived nevertheless."  
He stared at her with wide eyes.  
"The first time it happened I believed in guardian angels for the first time. It was so impossible and miraculous." She put on her jacket and her shoes and he did, too.  
In the car on the way to school, he has listened to his mother, fascinated.  
"Another time, I think you should remember. When we were visiting your aunt and you and Henry raced down the street per bike and you didn't stop although you weren't familiar with their neighborhood, the both of you drove down the street in front of the house and as I looked out the window, I only saw you losing control of you bike and hitting the ground face first." Tommy looked up. Now that they were talking about it, he did remember the shock as his bicycle suddenly swerved away under him. "What then?"

"You basically flew off your bike and rolled toward the other side of the street. Do you remember that they had rose bushes planted there? They lived on top of a hillside, if it wouldn't have been for the plants you would have fallen over the edge and rolled down the entire hill. There is a road at the foot of it. There was a moment where I could have fainted right on the spot, I really thought you would be injured very badly but when I had gotten outside and you were lying on the floor in a heap, just right in front of the thorns, you were not injured at all. Not a single scratch." They were silent for a while, both at a loss for words.

"I have always felt that you are destined for greatness, Tommy." This caught him by surprise. They were in front of his school and he saw Alex shutting the door of the car on the other side of the street, walking towards them.  
He nods wordlessly, presses a kiss to his mothers cheek and gets out of the car.

 

These memories well up now. In his room, in the middle of the night. His ghosts eyes are piercing, he is radiating coldness. The uniform looks shaggy and his black hair is in hanging in his face. He looks exhausted.

"Tommy," the ghost repeats with a quiet voice. They both look at each other with wide eyes.

Tommy doesn't know what to do. He wipes away the tears staining his cheeks and thinks of his mother and sister sleeping in the rooms next to him. Should he wake them? It's almost 1AM. He tries to ground himself. What if this is just a very very weird looking thief? He knows it sounds ridiculous but he clears his throat and inches closer to the door.

"Who are you?" He asks.

The man in front of him looks down at his pale hands and back up to him. Incredulous.

"You have not forgotten me." Tommy can make out a soft accent.

Silence. They stare at each other.

"What the hell is going on? Why are you here? Do you have a name?"

More silence.

"You can see me." The ghost notes. He repeats it one more time and his eyebrows wander up.

"You can see me!" The ghost says a third time, his voice getting louder.

Tommy shushes him. "What the hell, dude?" He sees something around the mans neck. A dog tag.

He gulps and takes a step closer. "May I?" He gestures towards the necklace. The man looks confused for a second, then his face lights up and he hands Tommy his tags.

_Gibson M._

"Gibson," saying the name out loud tugs at his heartstrings. He feels his chest constricting painfully and new tears welling up. He is absolutely confused.  
"I know you."

Gibson smiles a painful little smile.

"Thank you for saving me all my life." His ghost nods, eyes still big and sad.

Tommy doesn't know how to voice his question without sounding awkward as shit.  
"Why can I see you all of a sudden?" Suddenly, he feels scared. "Am I going to die? Have I died already?"

Gibson shakes his head frantically and takes a deep breath.  
"I don't know. I was... I was waiting for you to come out of the shower. I was..."

This is by far the weirdest situation he has ever found himself in, Tommy thinks.

"I was wishing for you to be able to see me. I wished that I could help you more."

Tommy frowns, at a complete loss for words.

"Excuse me, I'm-" He goes towards his door without knowing what to do and he exhales shakily. "This is all a bit overwhelming." He breathes. Gibson watches him and Tommy feels like the other man can see every single detail about him.

The soldier nods and waits for Tommy to calm down. He takes deep breaths and shivers. The room feels abnormally cold and out of the corner of his eye, he can see Gibson _flickering_.

"Gibson," he feels the heaviness on his tongue. "Do you have any idea why I can see you now?"

The other man shrugs helplessly.

"Have you never wished to be seen by me before?" Gibson looks pained.

"I have always wanted for you to acknowledge my existence, but kind of gave up after all these years."

Tommys head spins. "You can have- Don't you have influence on the real world? You were the one who saved me all these times, weren't you?"

Gibson sighs. "I don't know why, but whenever you are in trouble, I am able to touch you. The first time this happened was when you were still very young and learning how to walk. Your father was answering a call and left for a moment and you nearly ran head-first against the sharp edge of a chair. I reacted out of reflex, held you back so you wouldn't hurt yourself. It was a close call. I was euphoric afterwards, thinking I'd be able to touch you from now, but it was short-lived. I don't really know why but there are days when I feel stronger and can influence your environment. You don't even know how many times you would have lost your things if I wouldn't have picked them up for you."

Tommy blinks stupidly. This was too much to comprehend for him. He registers Gibsons quiet, rough voice, the way he eyes Tommy carefully and how he seems embarrassed when his soft accent becomes more audible at some words.

"On most days, I wasn't even able to flip a page or open a door, so I could only stay by your side as good as it was possible for me. I tried to leave messages for you, you always showed them to your mother. She was clueless for a while, I watched her talk to people about imaginary friends. She was really worried about you. Remember the day you went to the psychic woman? I really though you would finally acknowledge me afterwards."

Tommy winces. "I'm sorry, Gibson," He searches for words. "Everything was just kind of absurd and surreal. Up until... you saved me at the beach, I didn't really believe it. But after nothing happened again for years, I kind of- I never took it seriously."

A soft chuckle came from the other man. "Yeah, I noticed."

There is silence for a moment. Tommy has too many questions so he tries to sort through them when he notices that Gibson is still pressing himself to the corner, coldness seeping off of him.

"Why are you drenched?" Tommy asks, he himself is also awkwardly pressed against his door, not really knowing what to do.

Gibson eyes rest on his face, as if studying him. "This is how I died. I drowned."

"Is this the dream that I always have?"

Gibson nods. "I died on this day, the first of June 1940. It was during the war."

His voice gets quieter as he speaks and Tommy has problems understanding him.

"Why... why are you haunting-" He corrects himself as a flash of hurt ghosts over Gibsons pale face. "Why have you been with me all this time?"

The other man shrugs again. "I remember... I remember dying, drowning in that ship," they shudder simultaneously at the memory that they share. "Then I woke up, I thought I went to heaven. The room I was in was white and kind of loud. It was a shock," his little smile is lop-sided. "It was the moment you were born, although I didn't know it until they gave you your name."

Tommy doesn't know what to say, what exactly he means, so he stays silent.

"I wandered the halls of the hospital in the days when your mother was still recovering and tried to understand- I- well, english has changed a lot since I died. I couldn't understand what the nurses and doctors were saying. I watched your family go home after your mom got better. I nearly always stayed by your side from then on."

"Nearly?"

"Well, I was incredibly curious about the world, you know? In the beginning, I went out a lot, trying to catch up on what I missed. I tried to relearn english by reading newspapers. I wandered around London and even tried to board a tourist bus once, it was very helpful."

Tommy couldn't help but smile at the idea of Gibson, in his wet ass clothes sitting in the last rows of a hop-on hop-off bus, listening to little history lectures.

"But I noticed that no matter how far I go away, whenever I fall asleep, I would always wake up again by your side."

"You... need to sleep?"

Gibson sighs. "I asked myself that too, you know? Apparently, I fall asleep as soon as you fall asleep. It was a real pain in the ass when you were still a baby. I used to black out every few hours without a warning. Good thing I'm a ghost and not a physical body or I would have caused so many traffic accidents. But as you grew older I also grew stronger. Now I can stay awake even if you sleep, but never for long."

Tommy chuckled again. "How do you feel now? Do you also get tired when I do?"

Gibson suppresses a yawn just in time and smiles a bit. "Sadly, yes. You should go to sleep, Tommy."

Everything felt so freaking surreal in the moment. He slowly peels himself away from the door, switches off the light and walks towards his bed. Gibson slides down the wall and comes to sit on the floor.  
Tommy flops down on his bed and stares at the ceiling. In the darkness of the room, he could hear Gibsons faint breathing.

"I'm sorry that you died," he says as if in trance. Sleep overtaking him, pulling him under.

"It was not your fault." Gibsons voice is soft and gentle. This seems to be his standard.

Tommy falls asleep with an unexplainable feeling of guilt. Something telling him that it was. It was his fault indeed.

 

 

The next day he gets up, Gibson is nowhere to be seen and there is an undeniable moment where his heart falls. It was all a weird alcohol-fueled illusion, he is sure. So he sighs deeply and puts on his glasses only to flinch real hard when he sees Gibson literally _glitching_ into existence in the same corner he fell asleep in.

There was a moment where he could see Gibson and also the wall behind him, where Gibsons body was there, but also not. His edges looked as if someone has smudged them with a thumb.

There is a moment where Gibson opens his eyes and stretches his neck and suddenly, like someone messed up the cut of a film, he's on his feet. But there was no transition from him cowering in the corner to him standing in front of Tommy.

Tommy lets out a yelp of surprise and stumbles backwards. The backside of his knees hit the edge of his bed, he loses his balance. Gibsons hands shoot forward and grab his arms. They both hold their breaths, Tommy feels freezing where Gibsons hands touch him. Then as if someone lets out a breath, Gibsons fingers glide through Tommys arm, glide through flesh and bone and muscle. He sits down on his bed, staring up into Gibsons face. Silence engulfs them.

"What the fuck was that?"

 

He doesn't know how to tell his mother about Gibson, who stands behind him in the corner of their kitchen. She sips on her cup of tea and wishes him a good morning when he enters.  
Tommy does a double-take when he looks at the clock.  
"It's nearly 12, why didn't you wake me up?" He still has homework to do, damn it.

"You came home so late yesterday, I thought I'd let you get a bit more sleep," she says. "Are you okay?" She adds and he quickly tries to stand up straighter, brushing his hair out of his face. He knows he looks like shit.

"It's okay, just a bit hung over."

"Sounds like fun. How was the party?"  
He pours himself a cup of coffee, gets a bowl of cornflakes and steals a glance towards Gibson, who is now sitting on the chair next to him, leaning back into his seat, probably to not get in the way of him or his mother. Tommy wonders if that's how it always has been, if he has always sat there, invisible. He follows the other mans gaze to his little sister sitting on the couch, watching TV. A typical Saturday morning. 

"It was..." he doesn't know what to say. Yesterday was fucking disastrous but it was the only real party he has been to in a long time, since ever, actually and his mom seems genuinely hopeful of the fact that he actually had a good time.  
"It was great, Mom. It's been a while since I got properly drunk."  
Suddenly, the thought that Gibson has accompanied him through the _whole evening_ -through the thing with Marlene, through the thing with Alex- occurs to him. He feels his face getting hot as he looks at the soldier who is still staring at the screen intently. Some kind of cartoon.

His mom laughs a little: "As long as you don't overdo it. I'm glad that you are not wasting your youthful years sitting at home on a Friday."  
Tommy smiles back.

 

He does his homework diligently and spends the rest of the day reading, surfing on the internet and trying not to get distracted thinking about last night, about Gibsons appearance. The other man looks so physical, so real that Tommy always holds his breath when his mother gets too close to him, when it seems like their arms are going to brush but it never happens. Gibson always either stands in the corner or sits by the table without doing anything. He throws Tommy a surprised look when he discreetly slides a newspaper over the table, in front of him.

He has tried to avoid looking on his phone, scared of- he doesn't even know. Alex texting him? Asking for an explanation of the things that happened between them? Marlene badmouthing him on twitter?  
But there is none of that. He missed some snapchats from his friends, a classmates text asking about the homework. His heart clenches when he sees that Alex has deleted his profile picture, which was a shot of both of them together, Alex napping away while leaning heavily against Tommy. Now it's just the grey anonymous icon. He briefly scans through their chat. Alex' last message, _Let's meet at 8!_. He closes his eyes and hopes that they can talk this out. Whatever _this_ is.

The first time Gibson talks to him Tommy flinches. He just finished his homework when Gibson says: "Don't forget the paper about the excursion. Your mother still has to sign it."

Out of reflex, Tommy looks at his mother, she is tapping away on the laptop, his sister is taking a nap.

"They can't hear me," Gibson states the obvious. His voice quivers.

Tommy goes to his room to get the paper only to nearly jump out of his skin when he turns around to catch Gibson in the middle of going through the door, as in fucking going through the closed door as if his body is not there. Like a real ghost would do.

"I didn't hear you coming," he whispers after a while of awkward silence. He isn't used to Gibson being _well, whatever he is_. Hell, he isn't used to Gibson at all, although they have basically lived together ever since he was born.

"I know," Gibson says.

"You didn't make a sound at all." The other man just shrugs.

"Shouldn't I be able to hear you? Your steps at least?" Another helpless shrug. Tommy sighs.

"What the fuck even." This sentence seems to summarize the last 24 hours of his life pretty accurately.

 

He makes his mother sign the piece of paper and goes out with the excuse of wanting to exercise a bit. Gibson comes with him. They walk silently to the playground some streets further. Tommy pulls out his headphones and plugs them in. They sit down on a bench.

"Now we can talk," he says. "If I talk just like that people will think me crazy, now they think I'm just taking a call."

Gibsons mouth forms an O and nods.

"Okay, let's start with the easy stuff. How... how do you even work? I mean- You can sit on chairs and the floor, but can go through doors?"

"I can go through things if I want to. If a door randomly opens and closes, it gets kind of creepy."

Tommy nods. "You sleep when I sleep, right? What about eating? Physical exercise?"

Gibson shakes his head. "I only get tired when you do. But I'm not tired if you get exhausted from training or anything," he frowns. "But I do get weaker. I noticed that if you are in a particularly bad mood or extremely tired, it can happen that I accidentally glide through a chair I intended to sit on, or just black out."

"Has this happened many times?"

"No," he says. "Remember when you nearly drowned when you were nine years old? It didn't exhaust me to save you, swimming and all, but that night I- well, I just fainted even while you were still awake because you were so tired. That was one time. The other time, where you stayed up all night-" He stops abruptly and Tommy needs a second to remember that it was the day his parents got divorced. He cried for hours perhaps and although he was dead tired he couldn't fall asleep.

"I have tried to console you as best as I could. I talked to you and I even tried to wake your mother so she could check up on you," Gibson says, ignoring the surprised look on Tommys face. "But I got so weak that I could see through my own hand. I saw myself turning invisible and fading. I just passed out shortly after."

"Do you think your appearance is dependent on my mood? As in, if I'm happy, you are strong and- Oh! What if, what if that's a thing of energy?" He looks at Gibson, who stares back.

"I mean, what if you are taking my energy to appear? Like, if I'm low on energy, you disappear and are particularly strong when I'm feeling very good?"

Gibson nods. "I have thought about that too. You were an energetic child. In these days, I could pick up pens, write messages. One time, when your soccer team won during sports lesson, I could even be heard. A boy on the benches looked in my direction when I clapped."

Tommy laughs. "Good to know at least one thing. But what about yesterday? Why is it that I can suddenly permanently see you? I wasn't exactly in high spirits when you appeared."

Gibsons expression darkens for a moment. It startles Tommy more than he wants to admit. As good as Gibson knows _him_ , he doesn't know anything about Gibson.

"I want- I don't really know, to be honest. It was not the first time I wished that we could interact, that you could see me." 

"But you are always very strong when I'm in danger or when I need you really bad, right?"

Gibson nods and they stay quiet for a while.

"It must have been a lonely 17 years. I suppose you didn't have anyone to talk to?"

The other mans face looks stricken. "No," he says. "I have always talked to you. About everything. You never heard me."

Guilt washes over him, it's not like it's his fault. It's not like he consciously decided not to see Gibson.

"It's not your fault, Tommy."

"You always say that, but I have the feeling that it is."

Gibson stays silent.

"Gibson," Tommy says and the other mans eyes dart to him. They are green, brighter than the uniform he wears. Although still wet, it doesn't drip water anymore. What ghost logic is this? "Do you have any idea why you, a -I'm sorry if it sounds offensive- a random soldier from the world war gets- I don't know, gets stuck with me? You told me that no matter where you go, as soon as you fall asleep, you return to me, I think it means something."

"It means something wants me to stay by your side. I don't know but I guess I'm some kind of guardian angel to you. I don't think it's a coincidence that I get stronger when you're in trouble."

"But why _you_?"

Gibson shakes his head, looking down onto the earth. Tommy can't really make out his expression and makes a mental note to ask again another time."

"This brings me to another question," he eyes the sharp cheekbones of the man, the hollowed out eyes, the messy black hair.

"Who are you? Who were you when you were still alive?"

Tommy has seen Gibsons face showing pain, an old, underlying sadness but now it depicts unadulterated grief. The same unexplainable melancholy that Tommy has felt himself ever since he was young.

"I was a soldier and I- I can't remember."

"You can't remember your life before you died?"

Gibson shakes his head.

"Everything is vague. I know how I died, not a lot more."

Something tells Tommy that Gibson is not telling him everything and he lets it slide. He can't explain why, this feeling he can't quite put his finger on, but he knows that Gibson is with him for a reason. It is time to reciprocate the help that Gibson has provided.

"It's okay," he hears himself saying. "You are not alone anymore."

They stay on the bench until the sobs stop wracking Gibsons body and turn into softer, ragged breathing.


	4. Amicum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two pals tryna figure out how to friendship. Gibson tries to be supportive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god my guys I've finally done the test. Thank you so much for all the sweet comments and support for this fic. We go down with this ship together. Also: Merry christmas y'all! Hope you like it and thanks for reading

Sometimes, Tommy feels like he is trying to explain something inexplicable. Not exactly because it is impossible to explain, but because it is impossible for other people to know what he means, because the thing he's trying to make others understand is something that can only be truly understood and felt by him alone.

Dreams always leave him with a strong urge to run, run away as fast as he can. They leave him fearing for his life and he doesn't _understand_ , he doesn't know what they are supposed to mean.

Then, there's Gibson. Gibson with his soft eyes and cold hands. Gibson who is dead but not gone.  
Tommys thoughts are running in circles trying to understand what exactly made him able to see the other man. Were it his emotions? He was certainly unhappy and confused the evening Gibson appeared, but nothing he hasn't been before.  
He has wished for help, but he has also done this many times in his life already.  
There is also the question why _him_?

Something connects them, Tommy knows as much. There is a reason why Gibson returns to his side, a reason why they are bound to each other like that - he just doesn't know the answer yet.

 

He stares at his phone screen, trying to find a reasonable argument to get up and go to school now. Gibson appears next to his bed and Tommy does a full-body flinch.  
It's not like he knows how ghosts behave and if Gibson is doing it on purpose but he is sure it's unhealthy for his heart to always get spooked like that. Will he ever get used to this?  
Right then, a thought hits him. What if this is temporary? What if the reason why he can suddenly see Gibson just reverts and he goes blind again? The idea of Gibson just disappearing again scares him. Although he has only really known the other for around two days, he just doesn't want to lose him. He gets all anxious and weirdly sad at the thought of losing him.

The other man throws him an apologetic smile. "You have to get up now," he says.

Tommy nods and gets dressed. At first he felt a little bit embarrassed having someone so close to him all the time, watching him go about his everyday life - is this how celebrities on a reality show feel like? - but he reminds himself how Gibson has always been with him, Tommy just didn't know.  
There are still moments when he is convinced that he is just living through a very vivid acoustic hallucination. He learnt how to do reality checks and even considered going to a doctor, but out of fear of his mothers endless worry that would ensue, he kept to himself.

This weird normality with Gibson - Tommy can't explain where it's coming from. It's natural for Gibson to be with Tommy but not vice versa.  
Something about how comfortable he is in Gibsons presence nearly without any awkwardness feels so natural and _familiar_. It's like he has known the other man for a long time already. Even before his lifetime.

His motions halt at this thought and he nearly drops his toast.  
Could this be possible? His chest constricts painfully at the thought of having known Gibson before, before he was himself, in another lifetime. 

"Hurry up, you'll be late. Don't forget the signed paper," Gibson says.  
He nods and continues eating, his thoughts a complete mess.

 

Tommy didn't believe that thinking too much could make you tired but here he is, exhausted although he got around eight hours of sleep, something that hasn't happened since 10th year.

When he walks into the hallway of his school, he makes sure that Gibson is still behind him. He frowns when he realizes how everyone seem to subconsciously avoid the place where Gibson is. He half expected for people to just walk through his body.

As if he read his thoughts, Gibson shakes his head and says: "I don't know why they do that, why they don't go through me. But sometimes, when they do, they seem to feel cold."

Tommy shudders at the thought. Gibson is so real to him, it's weird being reminded that he is still a ghost.

He throws another glance backwards as he makes his way to his classroom when he notices that someone is looking at him.  
Alex is standing next to some of their friends, although they have always been more friendly with Alex than with Tommy, the other has always insisted that they are friend of them both. They have been together for so long now that Alex' absence makes Tommy feel like someone hacked one of his heads off. The other boy looks away, his face unreadable. The space next to Tommy that the other boy usually occupied feels like a gaping hole and there is a second where he can't bear it. He wants to walk up to Alex, make sure that everything returns to normal again until he feels a slight weight. Gibson has put his hand on his shoulder, steering him through the hallway.

Alex was the closest thing to a friend he has ever had. A true friend.  
The other boy is easy, easy to talk to, easy to befriend, easy to be around.  
Tommy is difficult, too awkward, too shy, too insistent of his personal space.  
Although there are more people than just Alex who tried to make a friend of him and who may even think of him when they are asked to create a list of their companions, he doesn't really consider _them_ his friends. He would help them when they are in need, he would be there for them if they needed a shoulder to cry on, but he merely considers them acquaintances, people he knows, he would grief for if they died, but no-one he couldn't live without.

Friend is a strong word to throw around with, he thinks. Friends are supposed to be close, important and somewhat irreplaceable - the only one he can think of that fits this description is Alex.  
Alex, who has always had more people who tried to befriend him than Tommy ever knew. Alex, who could have had anyone, but clung to Tommy ever since they met.  
After the recent events Tommy started to question if he even really knew Alex as good as he thought he did.

He stops dead in his tracks when he sees a broad, unfamiliar back standing in his classroom. Although the man seems to be around his height, his build is a lot sturdier than Tommys somewhat thin frame. He can hear Mr Collins talking to the man. None of the other students are there yet, he is uncharacteristically early too.  
Tommy clears his throat, unsure if he is disturbing something as the unknown man whirls around and the three of them stare at each other in uncomfortable silence until the stranger flashes a grin that makes him look a lot younger than he probably is. He mumbles a quick goodbye to Mr Collins and nods at Tommy on his way out.

The man brought with him a strong musk of leather and- what's this? Motor oil? Smoke?  
Now it's Mr Collins who awkwardly clears his throat and makes a hand movement for Tommy to enter the classroom. Just as the boy wants to ask who the man is, because he has rarely seen someone being so out of place like the stranger was, the other students start to show up and Tommy is too preoccupied avoiding eye contact with Alex. He notices Gibson already standing next to his place, his gaze looking at something Tommy can't see. He wonders what his ghost is thinking about.

 

School on that day is just as disastrous as Tommy imagined it would be. He didn't dare to go to the cafeteria out of fear of sitting alone and having people question him about his fallout with Alex.  
Instead, he spends his break beneath a tree in a more quiet part of their courtyard. Gibson keeps him company although he doesn't really dare to speak to the other man because what if someone comes by and sees him talking to himself? That would end the social part of his life.

Each time Alex raises his hand during lesson to voice a question Tommys heart sinks a bit. He tries his best ignoring the looks the others are giving him. Unspoken curiosity about why Tommy is suddenly on his own, why Alex is sitting next to William Blaker instead of him. Gibson seems to be watching Alex sometimes and Tommy wants to know if he is also reminded of the kiss at his front door.  
He eats lunch alone with Gibson. Trying to get used to this weird feeling of being an outsider.

"Do you miss him?" Gibson asks.

Tommy nods.

"Did you know about his intentions when you befriended him?" Something about the way the sentence is worded irks him.

"There was no _intention_. We were eleven - and no, I didn't know he harbored such feelings," Tommy mutters. He realizes that this is what's annoying him about all of this. Alex has never told him about this. He has never trusted him enough to tell him the truth. It's not like there weren't any situations where he couldn't have done so. Tommy feels weirdly hurt.

There was a time when Tommy had problems with himself. Hell, he still has them although he has gotten over them a bit.  
There was a time when he was ashamed for the things he felt.  
When he told his mom about his first boy-crush (after brooding over it for weeks) she laughed heartily, teased him about it and told him that it's okay as long as he is happy with the person he's together with. In hindsight he wants to thank god on his knees that she took it so lightly. It could have went so much worse.  
Alex was the second person he told, the other boy thanked him for his trust, gave him a bear hug and they promised to stay friends no matter what. That was two years ago and at the memory of that a mix of bitter- and sadness rise up his throat.

He glances at Gibson who is sitting next to him on the bench beneath the tree, his elbows stemmed on his knees, looking down. Seeing the other man when the sun is shining and with the shadows of the leaves dancing over his features feels unreal. Like everything kind of did the last few days.  
Gibson always looks a bit lost. He would be, too, if he died and woke up to being stuck with some random-ass teenager, Tommy supposes.  
The other mans face seems to form a perpetual frown, not very prominent, but there. A mask of constant worry, laid over a young and handsome face. Tommy noticed absentmindedly that underneath all the paleness, glitching-around and knitted eyebrows, Gibson is really good-looking. The man has a habit of always slightly squinting his eyes when smiling, scratching himself behind his left ear when at a loss and fidgeting with his hands while talking. He must have been around twenty when he died.  
Tommy wonders what kind of a person Gibson was before he died, before he was a soldier. Maybe it's because Tommy knows that the other man is a ghost, but sometimes, when Gibson isn't paying attention, he loses a bit of his presence. He looks somewhat desaturated then, as if someone washed away his colors, making him look like a black & white photography that came to life. The green of his eyes seem to lose their vividness and in those moments, Tommy is scared that when he blinks, Gibson will not be there anymore.  
The other man is looking at him now, a slight breeze blows Tommys hair into his eyes, Gibson reaches out and brushes the strands back. A feather light touch. Tommy frowns and tries to take Gibsons hand. There is a split second where his hands seem to touch something that feels similar to skin but then his fingers just sink through the other mans open palm.  
Gibson smiles a sad little smile just as the bell rings.

 

He has forgotten how lonely it is to sit on the tube alone, to walk home alone. Gibson sits wordlessly next to him, cold and unmoving. Tommy wants to talk to him, wants to know if Gibson still remembers how London was during his lifetime. Wants to know how he thinks Tommy could reconcile with Alex, how he can save their friendship.

His mother is still at work when he comes home and he lets out a relieved sigh when he closes the door. He feels Gibsons stare in the hollow of his back.  
There, in the silence of their shared flat, the weight of the day passed feels especially heavy. Tommy knows that he has to do his homework, that he has to do the dishes according to a little note his mother left for him at the sink, but he only really wants to talk to Alex.

"Gibson," he says. The other man steps next to him and watches him as he pours himself a cup of tea. "I have to make up with Alex somehow."

Gibson doesn't show any real reaction. He wrings his hands. "You want me to help you with it." It sounds like a question.

Tommy nods and looks at him, the ghost looks back. "I think I made a mistake and if this is how our friendship is supposed to end, I want to at least make sure that there will be no bad blood left."

There are some moments of silence until Gibson lets out a deep, long sigh. "There is no other way than just talking to him. He is-" he pauses for a second, seemingly trying to find a fitting word. "Your friend after all."

"Will you come with me?" Tommy asks and although he already knows the answer, it's a childish instinct that wants to make sure that he will not face this alone.

Gibson blinks, looking surprised and then he lets out a small chuckle.  
"I will stay by your side as long as I live"

It makes Tommy laugh out loud for the first time in days.

 

"You know what? I don't think I can do this. I should just- I-" Tommy exhales shakily and Gibson rolls his eyes and steps in front of him, blocking his way.

"We have come this far," he argues. In this case 'This far' is some hundred meters down the street. "You can do this."

Tommy bites his lip and stands in front of the door of Alex' apartment building. He takes a deep breath, let's it out. Takes another one and his finger hovers over the doorbell. Something nudges him from behind and he presses down. Immediately he pulls back and throws an exasperated look at Gibson. Tommy straightens himself hastily and clears his throat.  
The speaker next to the door bell gives a cracking sound and the voice of a young boy asks: "Hello?"  
Tommy recognizes the voice of Alex' little brother, Joseph.  
"Hi, it's me, Tommy. Do you remember?" He has never sounded more awkward, god help him. He looks at Gibson seeking help. The other man makes some hand movements, urging him to go on.

"I really want to talk to Alex - is he home?"  
There is a moment of silence on the other end. Then some noises that sounds like people arguing.  
"Alex doesn't want to talk to you." A new voice says into the microphone, Martin, who is two years older than Alex and has never been particularly fond of Tommy.  
"Is he home? I just-" Tommy ignores the creeping feeling of embarrassment, of his sinking heart.

"Tommy?"

He turns around to see Alex standing behind him with two bags of groceries in his hands. Tommys heart skips a beat.  
In that moment, Tommy had a very sobering moment of self-realization. He doesn't ally know why but he has told Alex almost everything about himself, has told him when he found out that he also liked boys the other way. But something stopped Alex from doing the same. Something made him keep things from Tommy.  
In that moment, Tommy wasn't hurt of angry at Alex for doing so. He just felt incredibly guilty and sorry for making Alex think that he cannot trust Tommy as Tommy trusted him.

"I'm sorry," he says.  
Alex face isn't really giving away a lot of emotions.  
"I'm sorry if- that I hurt your feelings."  
The other boy shakes his head slightly. He avoids looking at Tommy and instead stares at something behind him.  
"It's okay, Tom-" he mumbles and goes past Tommy.  
Tommy calls his name and takes two steps towards him when Alex pulls out his keys and attempts to open the door.

"Alex," Tommy says. "Please listen." Alex' motions halt for some moments. Tommy knows that this is his chance, but he is at a loss for words.

"Come on, Tommy. You can do this." Gibson says and Tommy can feel a slight push on his back. An invisible hand.

He looks back for a second, seeing Gibson give him an encouraging nod.

When he turns to Alex, opening his mouth to speak, the look on the face of the other boy stuns him and they stand in silence for a heartbeat.

"Alex?" he asks.

"You can see him." Of all the things he expected his friend to say in that moment, this wasn't one of them.

"What?"

"You see him. You just looked at him. Heard him talk," Tommy can't say what the look on Alex' face means, but he decides that he doesn't like it.

"Alex- what are you talking about?"

Now, there is sadness in Alex' eyes. 

"Your ghost. The drowned soldier," he says.

Tommy turns to look at Gibson. The other man stares at Alex, wide-eyed.

"You- _you can see him_?" Tommys head spins.

"I always could. Ever since the day we accidentally summoned him."


	5. Verum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is quietly having their existential crisis. Life continues to be both confusing and weird. Tommy is a good guy. Gibson is helpful and salty. And also sad, like always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS FUCKING CHAPTER I SWEAR
> 
> This fucker took so long to write I just jnbjjbms
> 
> I'm so sorry for the wait. Fuck.
> 
> Writers block + being on vacation + slow chinese internet is a real hazard to stories.
> 
> This chapter only came out after two cups of coffee and four shots of bacardi. Son of a bitch. Three effing POV changes. I might just as well pass the fuck out right on the spot now lmfao bye
> 
> I hope you guys still enjoy the chapter. That it was more or less worth the wait.
> 
> As always: Feel free to comment and THANK YOU FOR THE CONTINUOUS SUPPORT AND OVER 100 KUDOS WTF
> 
> Some music I listened to while writing:
> 
> Amber Run - I found
> 
> Nitesky ft John LaMonica - Robot Koch
> 
> blackbear - NYLA
> 
> idealism - don't say a word / midnight, somewhere
> 
> (I call it the sad fucking hours playlist)

Alex doesn't know who he is. He believes that nobody really knows themselves, or each other. It had been a weird realization for him in sixth year, while sitting in history lesson, that every single one of his classmates currently sitting here with him will inevitably die one day and that he, too, will be dead within the span of a hundred years. At the same time, he realized that every single one of them goes home to a different family, a different place, a different life. All these kids see things he doesn't get to see every day, angles and niches of the world he will never lay eyes upon.  
He felt irrational envy and greed that he will never have what they have, never see what they saw. The urgent need to experience every single one of life's aspects was weirdly overwhelming and gone in a second. The feeling of being caged within one body, one person, pressed down onto his windpipe.  
Alex realized that every one of them is bound to their body, their life and their identity. No one is really free, no one is really alone just as no one can really be together. The feeling of being unknowable, of not really knowing anyone and the realization that any marks his existence may have left in this world will fade within decades, called upon a deep sitting loneliness he has felt ever since he was young.

There are things that everyone keep to themselves. Things they take to their graves.  
The first time Alex watched a film where a soldier died, he cried. Unconsolable, his five year old self bawled his eyes out for nearly an hour, making his parents never allow him to watch any remotely violent movies again until he was twelve.  
This shouldn't be something he's ashamed of and it isn't. But there is something that keeps him from telling anyone about this. Something that he feels to be truer and something _more_ than he is.

The first time he met Tommy, the other boy looked lost like he always did. Brown hair, old eyes, a nose that doesn't seem to fit into his face but somehow still does. When Alex saw him, the same feeling he had when seeing that soldier fall onto the ground on screen, welled up in his chest.  
It felt like pain and familiarity and relief. He is not alone anymore.

 

Alex likes to think of himself as down to earth. Likes to think of himself as an open and friendly person. He is none of that. He so often feels like he isn't as good as a person he used to be. As if he forgot how to be himself. As if he forgot how to be human.  
He feels human with Tommy by his side.  
The first months of their friendship consisted of Alex literally pestering Tommy to hang out with him. At first he was scared that the other boy would refuse him, dislike him. This led to more desperate attempts to get closer. But soon he noticed that the other boy was just as starved for affection as he is. They grew together. A weird symbiosis, a two headed creature.

Everything went wrong that evening. Alex didn't realize what happened until two days later.  
That evening, after the sad looking, dripping wet man tipped over the glass cup while looking him straight in the eye, something changed. The man disappeared directly afterwards. He remembers how shocked he was, how this was a direct contact with _something more_ that he has so desperately tried to reach.  
He almost couldn't sleep that night, his hands shaking. He wanted to talk to Tommy about it. Wanted to share his excitement with the other boy but he was scared. Scared that Tommy will think him crazy and end their friendship. So he kept quiet.

He almost broke his silence when the soldier walked into their classroom on Monday morning, trailing after Tommy. He can't remember what kind of face he made after the soldier sat down on the empty chair next to Tommy, who is just sitting between them.

The soldier didn't acknowledge him. He just sat there, almost unmoving, his form seemed to flicker from time to time. It reminded Alex of the holograms in Star Wars. He was horrified.

He was sure that they accidentally summoned a ghost that is now haunting Tommy for some reason. He wanted to tell him, wanted to shoo the ghost away somehow until he noticed how the man seemed to belong to Tommy in a weird, wordless way. The ghost moved whenever Tommy did. Sometimes he watched Tommy with eyes full of something that made Alex chest ache with feelings he tried to suppress.

He doesn't know who the man is. From his uniform that Alex researched he knows that the man probably died during the second world war, around the 1940s, fighting for England.  
Alex wouldn't peg himself as a coward. He could just never find a fitting situation where he could try to communicate with the ghost, who never really notices him anyways. Once, he caught the man staring at him and a cold shiver ran down his back. The man looked as if he was contemplating something. He looked sad. It seemed to be his standard facial expression.  
Alex wants to talk to the ghost, ask if he remembers his death and if that is the reason for his melancholy. Something tells him that he doesn't want to know.

Tommy doesn't see the ghost. Alex observed his movements and habits carefully and came to the conclusion that although the ghost follows Tommy, the boy has no idea of his existence.

Being a ghost looks lonely and the idea that he will once end up the same way makes him lose sleep at night. He was thrown-off for at least a week. Sometimes he got spooked when the man suddenly appeared behind him or lets out a sigh. He tried to overplay it as good as he can and thankfully got used to it over the years.

One thing he noticed was the way the ghost looked at Tommy. It was neither love nor adoration. It was knowing, somewhat protective and all too familiar because Alex had caught the same look on his own face many times before. There is something about Tommy. Something in his frail body, something that makes him shrink into himself, something that makes him larger than life.  
Something that Alex needs and makes him itchy with want that he couldn't stop himself that evening just when they were about to part.

 

"What do you mean you can see him?"

Alex closes his eyes for a moment. He never wanted to hear the hurt in Tommys voice. Not like that.

"Alex?"

Hearing the ghost talk makes him shiver. His voice is not very deep, with a slight accent.

"I am not sure why, but I could see you for years now. I wanted to tell you," the last part was directed towards Tommy. "But he didn't seem to hurt you or anything. I was scared you would think I've gone crazy."

Tommy sucks in a breath and brushes with his hand through his hair.

"I'm sorry, Tommy."

The other boy lets out a humorless laugh.

"That's my line, buddy. Why I'm here in the first place," he said.

"You have nothing to apologize for," they look at each other, both thinking of the kiss and how an apology is due but nobody knows who owes one to whom.

"I'm sorry," Tommy says, repeating Alex' words.

Alex shakes his heads and gives a smile, they stand in silence for some seconds.

"How come you can see him now?"

Tommy shrugs helplessly. "He suddenly appeared in my room some days ago. Scared me shitless and just kinda stayed."

Alex and Gibson both let out something like a laugh at the same time.

"What now?"

"I don't know. Guess I'll just roll with it."

"You're literally being haunted, Tommy."

"Hey", Gibson intervenes.

Tommy chuckles at that. Some unspoken tension eases off their shoulders for a bit. Hearing Tommys awkward giggle again makes Alex happier than it probably should.  
He sees the way Gibsons eyes soften as he looks at Tommy. He doesn't know what to feel.

They stand in silence for one or two moments until Alex breaks it with a sigh. "I'll see you in class tomorrow?"

Tommy throws him a glance. Heavy with something that Alex can't categorize. Maybe the realization that although you've been friends with someone for years, you still don't know them as good as you thought you did.

"Tomorrow is a Saturday, my guy."

Alex hangs his head. "I'll just go die, okay? On Monday, then."

"Yeah but you'll be on your way to Hastings on Monday," Gibson reminds them.

Tommy groans. "Completely forgot about that. Do you think we'll have to share a room with Robert Grant again? If I have to live with his disgusting ass shoes in the same place I'll throw myself out of a window."

Alex laughs. Something about how naturally Tommy just assumed they will be sharing a room again warms his heart, invalidates his fears that have plagued him the last few days. 

"We'll get through it. Didn't Mr Collins say that we have a hotel next to the sea? If it gets too much we can still throw his shoes into the ocean."

"Sounds like a plan to me." Tommy flashes a smile.

They say their goodbyes and Alex watches them walk away, Tommy and his ghost. There is a weird feeling in his chest. It feels familiar in it's melancholy. He doesn't know how to name it, but it satisfies him greatly that he has seen this feeling on Gibsons face, too. A bit more sad, a bit more broken. Just as confused.

 

.

 

There seem to be side effects for living with a ghost. Tommys dreams have been vivid the last few days. Sometimes he can't feel his body anymore and freezes while walking up some stairs or just fucking drops his coffee cup because he lost control over his fingers. He feels weirdly tired all the time, as if he just ran laps. At least three people think he's crazy. Gladly, two of them were random truck drivers who he didn't see while talking to Gibson on his way home. Only when he came closer to their car he noticed how they were staring at him through their windshield, a boy having a conversation with the air next to him in the middle of the day. Needless to say, it was awkward as hell.

The third person is a bit more problematic. Same scenario, only with Mr Collins.  
He was out late on a grocery run for his mum. Almost nobody else was still in the shop so he talked quietly to Gibson. They were contemplating which Tomato sauce his mother wanted him to buy when he turned around a corner and came face to face with his teacher.

They were both a bit stuck for a second until the weird biker guy suddenly appeared behind Collins again to announce loudly that he has found the cornflakes brand he told Collins about. It was a weird fucking moment for everyone.

It was the biker guy who broke the silence by asking Tommy if he was the same student from their encounter in his classroom, to which the boy just nods and introduces himself politely while stealing glances at Collins who is wearing his _Jesus-give-me-strength_ -face.  
Tommy wonders how the two of them got to know each other, seen as Collins looks like he feels endlessly embarrassed by the other man for whatever reason.  
Farrier, as the man told Tommy to call him, was very different from Collins. He felt bright, like a dog person, someone who doesn't need coffee to wake up properly. Tommy steals a glance at Gibson who shrugs but something about how his lips quirk up slightly into a smug grin tells Tommy that he knows more. Collins said almost nothing except for a short greeting towards Tommy. When they stood in line to pay for their groceries Tommy eyes the box of cereal in Farriers hands and then Collins. They said their goodbyes in front of the store and Tommy pinches his arm because something about this situation felt so _unreal_.

"What the hell," he said. Gibson laughed and shook his head. "Who is this guy?"

"Not my story to tell." The ghost answered.

 

.

 

There were things untold between the two of them. An imbalance of knowledge. Gibson has been with Tommy all his life. He knew of the boys love for books and coffee. That he likes his coffee with milk and sugar, but always orders American Coffee to look cool. That he has no idea about modern fashion trends and instead decided to wear his dads old shirts and jackets, accidentally solidifying his image as a hipster. That he likes Herman Hesse and The Alchemist but thinks Freud is an asshole. That his favorite film is The Dead Poets Society and that he cried real hard when his parents divorced and his father failed to show up to a promised dinner on his 14th birthday.

He knows that Tommy is an anxious person, torn between trying to live his life to the fullest and what other people think of him. Gibson knows that Tommy likes slightly cloudy weather with chances of nice sunshine the best. That Tommy loves the sky and sheds silent tears when he sees a lot of stars at night. He knows that he likes the sea, the waves, the green of Gibsons eyes. He knows that the boy despises disloyalty and selfishness. He knows that although the two of them are inherently the same, this Tommy, born in a modern London to cars and cable TV is different than the one who grew up in the harsh times of war. Gibson knows Tommy.

 

Tommy doesn't know that Gibson remembers. Remembers everything. 

His name. His home. His person. His death.

Tommy doesn't know that Gibson remembers _him_. That he remembers Alex, that he remembers the chains that held him in place, the waves that pulled him under all those years ago. He doesn't know that Gibson left his home, his family, himself behind to survive. He doesn't know that Gibson is a traitor. Gibson is not about to tell him.

He just stays. Hopes to be seen one day by the boy he has known for his lifetime and more. At the same time, he is afraid of the moment the boy learns of his existence, because he knows that the truth is inevitable.

For a long time, Gibson thought that there is a purpose why he is here. This thought kept him sane for all the years no one could see and talk to him. He tried to kill himself without success. He tried to scream and destroy without anyone noticing him. So he gave up and silently watched the boy grow.

The day after Tommys father left his son heartbroken, he couldn't find his car keys anymore. Little did he know that they were lying on the bottom of the Thames.  
The boy who tried to bully Tommy in middle school found himself tripping constantly, swearing he can feel someone stepping on his foot.  
The guy who ridiculed Tommy who stuttered while giving his presentation almost lost his fingers the next day, a door mysteriously slamming shut.  
Gibson is a ghost now, so he haunts the ones who intend to harm his boy.

 

The day Tommys mother (God bless her soul) took him to the psychic who informed them that Gibson exists he almost started crying on the spot. Things did not change a lot afterwards but sometimes he would catch Tommy talking to him. Just generally summing up his day when he felt down. Gibson wanted to answer him. Wanted him to hear. But he could only make the room a little warmer, make his nightmares less vivid, make him feel more comfortable around Alex.

Right - Alex. The first time he saw the boy he was frozen to the ground, as if struck by lightning. He didn't know what to do. The eyes, the hair. The _name_ for gods sakes.

When the two of them became friends he was at a loss. There were moments when he thought he should be relieved. Tommy's found a good friend in him. But Gibson has kept an eye on him nevertheless. With time, he grew as accustomed to the boy as Tommy did. The same rules applied for him - He isn't the same as he was back then. He is just another boy, not the man scarred from death and fighting. Not the man who was ready to sacrifice Gibsons life if it meant his own survival.  
He could still feel Alex' hand tapping his shoulder, urging him to go, to leave the ship. What came afterwards still made Gibson shiver with dread.

Over the years, to Gibsons horror and quiet relief, things began to fade.   
One day, while watching Tommy eat lunch while Alex blabbered on, he noticed that he can't remember his own favorite food anymore. That he can't remember the songs he used to listen to.  
The most important things stayed. His parents faces, his sisters laugh. Tommys hands when he took the flask. Tommys voice telling Alex off for accusing Gibson. Tommy, just as scared as he was, shivering from the cold, edging closer to Gibson. Protecting him.

Gibson looks at Tommy. The boy is standing in front of his open closet. Next to his feet is his open suitcase.

"It's only one week and I really don't want to take too much," the boy muttered to himself, scratching his hair. "You think I should take the thick jacket?"

Gibson nods. "When it's warm you can always leave it at the hotel. But it's better safe than- er, cold."

Tommy laughs at that.  
Gibson enjoys this - whatever it is they have. It's nice and comfortable. It's almost intimate. Living together like this. He was scared that Tommy would want him to go away, doesn't want him around himself. The boy sleeps more than the other kids his age. He is more easily exhausted, has been eating a lot more lately but hasn't gained any weight.  
Gibson knows that it's because of him.

In the beginning, it wasn't just that Tommy couldn't see him. Gibson was simply not there. He wasn't strong enough to show himself. When he wanted to do things - throw away car keys, slam a door shut - he had to concentrate real hard on his hand, his strength. Otherwise, his arm would just fucking go through the wood of the door like it wasn't there.

Something weird happened that evening. Gibson remembers feeling more awake than ever, more _there_. He wanted to be there for Tommy. Help him like he helped Gibson. He was still chewing on the kiss. He just came to the conclusion to see what Tommy would do because of Alex and either support him or try and find a way to change his mind, when Tommy came back into his room.  
What came afterwards, well, it honest to god scared him shitless. He noticed Tommy looking drained after the nights of the first of June. Listened to him telling his mother about nightmares of drowning. He knew that Tommy is a smart kid, it was only a matter of time when he would make the connection between Gibson and his dreams.

Tommy is smart, yes. But he is also kind of naïve. Gibson likes it. He is childish in a way that seventeen years olds should be. His heart aches when he thought of the frightened boy he met back then. He tries not to do it, but he compares them a lot. There is Tommy, then there is _Tommy_.  
The two of them are, in essence, the same. They are what many would call boyish, a bit confused but determined and most importantly - kind. Really, only stupidly kind people give strangers money, no matter how small the amount, or defend basically-strangers from death-by-nazi.

However, there are still significant differences between Tommy who grew up with Pokemon Cards and Reality TV and the one who had to learn how to use a gun at the tender age of seventeen.  
Tommy whose worst battles were the ones against his social anxiety and habit to procrastinate is different than the one who fought in a world war, watching his fellow soldiers die one after another.  
They both think of themselves as "Nothing much" but they are more than enough.

Gibson doesn't know what he would do without Tommy. He doesn't know what he would be. He has been his ghost for too long.  
He is sure that when Tommy learns the truth eventually, he would have to find a way to exists without him, because when Tommy learns that he is a traitor, someone who gave up his duty and friends for his own life, he would hate him.

His smile is soft when he nods as an answer to Tommys question if he thinks two pairs of jeans are enough.  
Guilt tugs at his heart, at his smile and all he wants to do is to pull Tommy into his arms and only let go when his chest stops aching for someone who isn't here anymore.


End file.
